HOUDINI CONNECTIONS WEB SITE

http://www.houdini-connections.co.uk/4-info/pubs/storylines.htm

Prints as 19 pages - Words 18,500

HAPPY BIRTHDAY BOSS

by

anon

The author knows the background and technical details of this army unit from real life experience. He was officer in charge.
His commission was to evaluate groups of servicemen by
putting them through a series of realistic infiltration, stealth,
and endurance exercises.
That is not fiction: he was also a professional interrogator.

Now retired, in this story he allows himself to imagine a series of predicaments which he perhaps wishes might have happened to him.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY BOSS

Surprise Surprise!

 “Happy Birthday boss!” said the rapidly receding voice of Colour Sergeant Norris, followed by a round of badly suppressed laughter from the rest of the team. And then I was alone. I lay still and tried to assess my position. Staked out, gagged, and blindfolded, in the middle of a wood in the training area I began to wonder how I was going to escape and then I laughed at the irony of my predicament. Being the boss of a unit dedicated to training soldiers in resistance to interrogation and torture here I was totally out of control, tied up, and vulnerable.

We had just finished an exercise to train a recce platoon from 40 Commando RM in basic practical resistance to interrogation. I had been at my most inventive this weekend and even though this was only my third exercise as controller we had successfully broken a few wills and a few more egos. My guard commander was CSgt Dave “Cuff” Norris and he and I established a good rapport. He knew what made young marines tick and his own training as a marine ensured we made the exercise realistic and punishing for the trainees – themselves hardened experienced marines. Anyway the exercise drew to a close; everyone was debriefed and packed off home. I was in a bit of a hurry because as soon as we got back to camp my two weeks summer leave began and I didn’t want to waste a second. We had almost packed up everything prior to the return to our own unit when I heard Dave call for me from the rear of the derelict farm buildings we had been using as the makeshift interrogation centre. I put my bergen in the landrover and went to check all was OK. I rounded an outhouse and as I passed the open doorway I was jumped by four of my own men. My arms were quickly pulled behind me and I heard and felt the familiar click as the 1950’s police cuffs snapped onto my wrists. We had many pairs for use on trainees and I knew all too well that they weren’t coming off unless someone used the key to unlock them. I was hauled to my feet and spun round to face a smiling “Cuff” Norris who grinning from ear to ear just had time to say Happy Birthday before he slipped the green cotton hood over my head and tightened the neck cord.

I struggled some but it was all too late. 36 hours without sleep controlling the exercise had left me tired and weak. I tried laughing and asking the guys to let me go as we had to get back but the firm pressure of hands on my arms told me I wasn’t going anywhere till they had had their fun at my expense. Oh well better to give in and get it over with and then we could all go home. I half expected a quick ducking in the nearby stream and then a friendly barracking on my 40th birthday status before being released but it was not to be like that. We walked for some time and then I was expertly dumped on the ground and four pairs of hands went to work. My black polished combat boots, socks and my favourite tight fitting tropical DPM trousers were removed. I felt rope tightens round my ankles and my legs kicked apart. Simultaneously one wrist was freed and my lightweight DPM shirt was stripped off me leaving me in only my shorts A second pair of cuffs snapped on. I was then none too gently spread-eagled on the ground and I heard the free end of the cuffs close. I tried tentatively pulling my arms in but soon found them stopped short. Meanwhile my legs had each been tied to something and I knew I was going nowhere for a while.

The hood came off and I looked up to see myself in a wood. Driven into the ground were four very strong steel pegs and from the top of each extended a short metal loop. The free end of each of my cuffs went through the loop on two of the pegs. And the rope from each ankle was similarly threaded through the loops of the other two pegs before being tied off to the peg. Dave laughingly began to explain this was an initiation tradition in the unit and that finding out that it was my birthday, it had seemed like the ideal opportunity to see if I could take what I dished out. I started to argue but was quickly cut short by a short length of rope which was expertly flipped over my head and into my mouth. A couple of times round my head and I could do nothing but grunt. A green cotton sweat scarf was tied over my eyes and I was very effectively blindfolded. CSgt Norris explained I had 12 hours to get myself back to base before they came looking for me for part two of my initiation, the resistance to interrogation phase which he assured me I would not enjoy. Giving me some hope Dave said no-one had failed to get free in the 12 hours but that not all managed to make it back to camp some 10 miles away. If I got back I would escape phase two, if not…he just laughed. However, he added as I was an officer, in true Royal Marines tradition, all tests were harder than for the other ranks, so there was to be one further difficulty. At this I felt a hand enter the leg of the loose fitting tough green cotton shorts I always wear on exercise. Despite my pathetic struggles and grunts a piece of paracord was wrapped round my ball sac and stretched to a fifth steel peg hammered into the ground between my legs. “Don’t want to make this too easy do we sir?” and then “Happy Birthday boss!” as he left. A short while later I heard the vehicles distantly start up and drive away leaving me alone and almost naked staked out on the muddy ground for the insect bites of early autumn.

And so it was that I came to be spending my birthday in bondage. The odd thing was I didn’t feel any anger at my situation and if I was totally honest I was quite enjoying it. I tried wriggling around and initially only succeeded in tightening the cord on my balls. This had a dramatic impact on my cock which immediately began to stiffen and push up the coarse cotton of my shorts. Trying to ignore it, I reasoned that if it was possible to escape as Dave had said then there must be a key nearby. So after some struggling I managed to rub my blindfold off to see the key hanging on the end of a string from a branch above me. If I could just work the knots free on my feet or dislodge the steel pegs I might be able to reach the key string and trap it between my feet. If I then wriggled down tightening my arms I might get enough slack on my balls to raise my feet and drop the key near one of my hands. I started work on the ropes on my feet and after what must have been about an hour I was just beginning to free my legs when I heard a branch snap behind me.

 

Over at last then; the guys had returned to free me. I swivelled my head round and back to see a figure clad from head to foot in black shining motorcycle leathers and black helmet, visor down, watching me. My heart raced. He looked fantastic. His crotch was nicely rounded and the sun beams finding their way through the leaves shone on his sexy black clad body. He slowly moved round until he was at my feet and taking a step forward lifted the cord to my balls with one of his booted feet. I drew in breath as my balls were stretched and held taught. I moaned into the rope gag but the moan sounded more like pleasure than pain and I realised uncomfortably that my dick had begun to get even harder inside my shorts. The noise did not go unnoticed and trapping the cord on the ground with his other boot the biker knelt between my legs, black leather creaking as he did so, and slid a soft leather gloved hand into my loose shorts through the fly and gave my rapidly stiffening erection a good hard exploratory squeeze. Saying nothing he stood up and placed a polished black boot on my crotch and began pressing my cock into my thigh. The wet sole of the boot transferred mud onto my shorts but more revealingly a tiny drop of precum stained my shorts. Despite the pain and the fear I moaned again as I struggled to cope with the humiliation of being discovered in this way and yet obviously enjoying my own discomfort. The man in black raised his visor to reveal a black balaclava over his face allowing only his smiling blue eyes to fix me with their stare.

“You and I need to have a little talk” he said. And so saying he stood up grabbed the key and released my hands only to quickly recuff my wrists behind my back. Next he freed my feet but tied a short hobble of rope between my ankles. Freeing the end of the paracord he pulled me to my feet and then threading the paracord through the fly of my shorts led me by the balls out of the wood. The rain began very suddenly and soon I was soaked. At least the mud was washed off my body and the precum disguised though I didn’t think it has escaped the notice of the man in black. With my short steps, I struggled to keep up but was sufficiently motivated by the pull on my sac to make sure I didn’t trip over. We eventually stopped and I was backed up against a tree. The biker took a long look at me before replacing the blindfold I had struggled so hard to remove. Leather hands moved down my wet and vulnerable body, gently rubbing my hardening nipples. Fingers moved through my chest hair and a voice said simply “That will have to go”. My cock almost jumped out of my shorts and I could not believe the fantastic sensations coming from my groin. Suddenly I felt a mouth sucking through my wet cotton shorts and enveloping my cock but just as I moaned in pleasure, the sensation ceased and a pull on my balls told me to move again. It was very unnerving and intimidating to move in this way but after a very short while we stopped again and I heard a vehicle door being opened. I was led to the back of what seemed like a van and his voice told me to get in. Eventually I managed it and found myself lying face down on what felt like coils of rope. Leather gloved hands shortened the rope between my ankles and I felt my arms pulled back as a rope was placed between my ankles and the wrist chain of the cuffs. Fortunately nothing was too tight and I didn’t loose any sensation in my wrists. Lastly the ball cord was pulled back between the legs, up my crack, trapping the wet shorts against the cheeks of my arse and then it was secured to my ankles. There was no way I was going to struggle now without pulling my balls off. Anyway the stiff cock on which I was lying was all the proof I needed that I didn’t want to struggle all that much. And so hogtied, wet, almost naked, gagged and blindfolded in the back of a van of a black leather stranger I heard the door click closed and the engine start. Suddenly a blast of white noise filled the air and a jolt told me the car had begun to move. There was obviously no way I was going to be back at camp in time to pass my initiation test. But I had other more pressing matters to think about and was just beginning to realise that being held by a leather biker and tormented and teased was what I had been waiting to happen for years but never dared hope for.

 

A Journey

Strangely I wasn’t scared, even though I was inescapably tied up in the van of a black leather devotee who clearly was no stranger to men in bondage. I could hardly prevent him doing whatever he wanted to me and anyway I didn’t want to. I started to rub my prick against the ropes beneath me but almost at once the van stopped. The noise went off and the door was opened. Without saying anything I was turned onto my side so my cock was not touching the rope and was swiftly tied down further to prevent any further attempts at bringing myself off. The voice from the dark then said the words I had only ever dreamed of hearing. “That cock and balls are now mine. You will only cum when I allow. Do you understand?” And for the first but I hoped not for the last time I submitted and nodded my head. The door closed, the engine started and the white noise started again. I was bound and helpless and dying to cum but couldn’t.

My throbbing prick occupied my thoughts for the rest of the journey and I don’t know how long it was before the van stopped. When the door was opened I was untied from the van but still had on the cuffs, ankle hobble and ball cord and shorts. I was led a short way into what was presumably the garage before being stopped by a leather gloved hand on my chest. New noises were heard and then I felt straps placed around my wrists and ankles. The cuffs were undone and my wrists then pulled up by rope. My shorts were removed along with the ball cord. It was not long before I was standing spread-eagled naked and vulnerable and horny as hell with the biggest erection I had ever experienced. My dick ached for something to touch it but nothing did. The rope gag was removed but before I could speak a leather gag took its place and was buckled in place. The thin cotton sweat scarf was removed and a black leather padded blindfold enclosed my eyes.

“Now for that pelt” said the voice. A buzzing noise began nearby and very quickly I felt the vibration of barbers clippers begin their work on my body. My cock was jumping but nothing was said and it certainly wasn’t touched. The black leather-clad biker then began to systematically shave my body. As he did so I could feel his leather covered body touching my naked one. It seemed as if he was going out of his way to make sure I felt his leathers. The taste and smell of leather of the gag filled my mouth and nose and when a gloved hand covered my nose to keep my head still while my neck was shaved I almost came. My legs and feet were shaved, my arms were shaved, my back and chest were shaved. Eventually only my arse and groin remained. My wrists were adjusted so that they were joined behind my back and then pulled up so that I had to bend forward at the waist to relieve the pain. My arse was now exposed and carefully shaved with the clippers. And then agonisingly slowly my crotch hair was removed. Every time I thought I would come the clippers left my balls and when I had calmed down a little they would start again. I seemed to be on the edge of orgasm for an eternity but eventually I was shorn. Fortunately, I keep my hair pretty short anyway in the military and so my head escaped further clipping. Next my arse and groin were shaved again this time with a dry razor. I lost count of how many times I thought I would come but didn’t. This magical black leather biker was an expert and I hovered on the edge the whole time. I had never felt so naked in my life before nor so full of energy which considering I had not slept for about forty hours by now was quite something.

My wrists were lowered and I stood awaiting whatever torture was next. Suddenly the biker hugged me and I was enveloped in leather arms. Leather pressed against my chest and for a moment I lived and breathed leather. Then his voice whispered in my ear. “I am going to have to hurt you. If you cooperate you will not suffer but if you resist you will be tortured and punished in ways beyond your imagining.” Now I was trained to resist interrogation. I had completed the Navy’s survival course with its Resistance to Interrogation phase. I had completed the RAF Combat Survival and Rescue Officer’s course with its R to I phase and I had completed the gruelling Army Combat Survival Course at Hereford run by the SAS and I had passed all of them. But something in the way he spoke made me hesitate. I began to go soft as I thought of the situation I was now in. The biker released me from his arms but said nothing. 

I stood and waited but nothing happened. After a long time my wrists were fastened in front and hoisted up. My feet were released and I stood upright. My arms were hoisted still further and then what was obviously a pair of leather shorts were pulled onto my legs and up my body. My cock and balls were forced through a small opening and then my balls encircled by a thin leather strap keeping them down. Eventually the shorts were fully on and I could not move or feel my prick. The shorts seemed to be tightened round my legs and just before they were fully on something was pushed into them. It took a moment before I realised it was all the hair which had been clipped from my body which was now trapped inside the shorts and around my cock and balls. It itched like crazy. My arms were lowered and I was led against a wall where straps began to be placed around my arms legs and body. I was then left standing but immobile with my arse, cock and balls itching like mad from the hair. The blindfold was removed and I drank in the sight of the shiny black leather enclosing my captor’s body. He was now dressed in a tight fitting one piece leather suit and his head was now enclosed in a leather hood with holes for his eyes and mouth. The harsh light in the garage reflected seductively off the leather and my cock tried to move inside its leather prison. He then told me I was going to be left strapped down for a long time until my first interrogation. Reaching behind him he produced a sort of leather bag which he placed over my head and locked around my neck. I couldn’t see very much again but did see light coming through some holes so at least I could breathe. This didn’t stop the bag bellowing in and out every time I breathed however. With a final stroke to my shorn chest he squeezed my nipples hard making me wince and then left me to wonder when the torture would begin and what it was he wanted to know. I stood itching and struggling and pulling helplessly against my bonds wishing I could remove the shorts and the hair and more than anything regretting I had not been able to cum earlier. My balls were aching from their confinement and now more than ever wanted to blast their load into the shorts. But it was hopeless, I could barely move and in view of the last speech by the leather biker the prospect of being allowed to cum seemed very remote indeed.

 

A Waiting Game

I don’t know how long I was held strapped against the wall. I’m sure I didn’t sleep but unusually I lost track of time. My mouth was beginning to tire from being held open by the gag and the air in the bag hood was warm and moist. My sweat seemed to have dampened the hair in the tight leather shorts I had been put in and it was no longer itching.

The tiniest of touches to my left nipple told me I was not alone. My nipples have always been really sensitive and now that I had been shaved the feelings of my whole body seemed somehow more acute. I assumed this was no accident. A finger traced a line round my tit down my chest and back up to the other nipple. I couldn’t stop myself from drawing in breath and the bellowing hood gave away my reaction to my captor who slid a hand down to my tightly enclosed crotch. Once more, just like in the training area wood, a mouth enclosed my trapped cock. I could feel the warmth of his mouth as his tongue lapped my strapped down balls through the leather. This time it didn’t stop and my cock began to stir in its prison. I moaned in pleasure and discomfort as my cock engorged in the rapidly reducing space. The mouth continued to work my balls, which tried to rise up against the tight restraining strap. Then it stopped and I moaned in frustration once more. Not a word was spoken.

Hands began to undo the straps around my body and soon I was left with only my wrists bound to the wall. A short, heavy chain now joined my ankles and just before my wrists were released a warning voice told me not to attempt to escape – as if that were possible hooded and hobbled.

My wrists came free and I quickly tried to ease my cramped arms. Strong hands took my wrists and I shuffled forward. The straps around my wrists were replaced by much thicker stronger leather cuffs, which also buckled over my hands. My hands were lifted slightly and attached to what felt like the ends of a metal bar. There was a short pause and then my arms began to be pulled up and up. I tensed my legs and stood on tiptoe but still my arms went up until I was hanging at full stretch just off the ground. The hobble chain was removed and leather gloved hands stroked up the smooth inside of my legs to the shorts which were gradually removed freeing my swinging cock and sweating balls. Judging by the weight, another metal bar was fixed between my ankles. And then I writhed as a brush went to work around my groin, presumably brushing away the damp hair clippings. I had never felt anything so ticklish in my life and swinging in the air I was powerless to stop the torment. I twisted and groaned and tried to jerk away from the brush but I could never tell where it was going to come from next. The bag over my head bellowed in and out quickly, making it more difficult to breathe and still the brush attacked my cock, balls and arse. I was in difficulty and finding it hard to think. All I wanted was for the tickling bristles to stop touching my sensitised cock. When I was screaming through the gag and thought I could stand it no longer the brush stopped and hands began a slow examination of my body. A dry razor was occasionally used to remove stray hairs missed previously but when he got to my arse and groin a warm wet lather was applied over the whole area with yet another brush but soft and smooth this time. The feeling was wonderful and didn’t stop even when a wet razor meticulously scraped away the foam and stubble remaining from my previous two shaves. I wondered why he was paying so much attention to this part of my body. Warm water rinsed away the last of the foam. My foreskin was pulled back and the washing continued. A wet mouth briefly enclosed the tip of my cock and then the foreskin was pulled back over the thin layer of lubricating saliva. My cock responded to all the attention and gentle toweling which followed and hardened under the ministering hands. The hum accompanying the warm air blowing over my arse told me that my leather captor was using a hair dryer on me. The warm air rippled over my stretched torso but concentrated mainly on the groin area. The feeling was wonderful and my cock dried, rose and stiffened still further at the brush of the warm air even though my arms were now causing me some discomfort. A leather hand cupped my balls and the blast of air was concentrated on my smooth shaven dick which throbbed with frustration at not being touched. The hand gently dropped away and my balls bathed in the airflow. First the pain of bondage and a stiff brush, then the pleasure of slippery foam and warm air. I knew from my interrogating experiences the tricks that could play on the mind; not knowing when the pain was going to stop and the pleasure start. A sort of torture equivalent of nasty cop nice cop in the police cells. I knew how dependant and grateful one could become to the giver of pleasure and how keen to please the torturer to stop the pain. A man will say anything to stop the torture but not necessarily the truth. It takes far more persuasive methods to extract the truth from a captive – just how much did my captor know about such things? He certainly seemed to know what he was doing so far. I had had no chance to escape and just enough pain and pleasure to remind me of my status as a prisoner.

Slowly I was lowered to the ground and I struggled to get my balance with the spreader bar between my ankles. The lock at my neck was undone and the hood and gag removed. I sucked in air but closed my eyes against the dazzlingly bright light in my eyes. Turning to the side as far as my spread-eagled body would allow I saw a black figure enter the light. By squinting and not looking directly at the light I could just make out the leather biker. He had changed again and now wore skintight shiny black leather jeans which hugged his legs and crotch which shone in the light. Below were multi-strapped motorcycle boots, lovingly polished. A shiny buckled belt merged into the leather Levi shirt which was just visible beneath the black motorcycle jacket, undone to the waist. Thin supple leather gloves covered the hands that had just been feeling my balls and a full leather hood still covered his head with holes just visible for the mouth and eyes.

 

Questions

He stared for a long time and when I had recovered enough to speak I very carefully asked what I needed to do to be released. The stranger looked down at my stiff cock and asked “Are you sure you really want to be released.” Whilst it was true I was loving every second of watching this leather man, I also knew I was here for a reason, and against my will, and that sooner or later I was going to find out why. So it might as well be sooner.

“What do you want?”

“Revenge and information.”

“Revenge? For what?

“For what you took away.”

“I don’t know you. How could I have taken something from you?”

“You don’t know me by name but we have met.”

“When?”

“Last year at the R to I phase of my training. I was one of the men on the SAS selection and after five months of grueling training, I was one day away from acceptance when YOU tricked me and got me talking. I failed selection because of you. And it’s not going to happen again.”

“But that’s my job. Interrogating is what I do. It is not up to me who the SAS select, I just run the R to I training.”

“Well now I’ve got another chance at selection and I’m not going to blow it this time. I want to know everything about the exercise. How its run. What the ploys and tricks are. How long it lasts, everything. And you’re going to tell me. And then you’re going to tell no-one about this.”

“I can’t do that.”

There was a pause.

The leather soldier moved in and I screamed as tit clamps went onto my nipples. A hand clamped over my mouth. The pain wasn’t that bad, it was more the surprise than anything.

The leather mask came right into my face and the blue eyes bore into my own.

“Scream away, no-one can hear you. You will talk. You’ll be begging to talk to me and I may not let you until I’m sure you’re going to tell the truth. You’ll be gagged and going crazy wanting to speak so that I’ll stop what I’m doing to you. But I won’t let you speak until I’m absolutely sure and you’re absolutely desperate.”

The hand came away and a different tight close fitting leather hood was dropped over my head. No eye holes. No mouth hole. Just three small holes below my nose. Laces were tightened, a zip closed and a padlock fitted at the neck. The hood was not coming off even if I got my hands free. The chain between the tit clamps was pulled slightly. I sucked in air and pushed my chest out to reduce the pull, swinging from the bar as I did so. The chain was dropped. The spreader bar between my legs was replaced by the short hobble chain and my arms were lowered and cuffed together in front of me. I was led forward struggling until a sharp tug on my tits reminded me it would be better to cooperate until I got a true chance to escape. Through a door and up a flight of stairs then along a corridor and up more stairs. We must be in the house attached to the garage where I had first been kept. Why move me here? Unless the facilities were better! Another door and I was pulled over to a padded table. The tit clamps came off and I gasped as a surge of blood rushed into my squashed nipples. “Face down” his voice commanded.

I lay face down on the padded table. He adjusted my arms and legs and then straps seemed to tie down every part of my body.  After removing the ankle chain, the whole length of my spread legs were tied down. My arms were by my sides but also tied down to the table with my wrists and hands still encased in their complicated leather straps. My head seemed to drop slightly into a depression and was secured in that position with more straps. Lastly my cock and balls were hanging free through what must have been a hole in the table and therefore were presumably totally exposed. A wide strap was passed over my arse and tightened pressing my crotch further into the hole and preventing any possible movement. It was clear where the centre of attention was going to be!

During the move and tit torture I had gone soft though I still ached to milk my balls to relieve what felt like an internal pressure. I had never felt anything quite like it before as I had always managed to find time to sneak away and toss myself off even on exercise. I prepared myself for the pain my balls were about to receive and sucked in breath at the first touch but was amazed to find my flaccid cock and balls totally enclosed by the leather biker/soldier’s mouth. It felt so damned good. His nudging tongue gently teased the beginnings of an erection and he withdrew his mouth. The air cooled the spit on my balls whilst he continued to lick my stiffening shaft. Gripping it from the side between his teeth and lips he caressed the underside with his tongue. Transferring his attentions to the tip he licked around my large bulbous glans forcing the foreskin back. I moaned in pleasure and felt the beginnings of a long awaited orgasm begin to rise. Leaving my cock head he slid his tongue the length of my shaft and transferred his attention to my balls. Nudging, lapping, sucking and massaging with his tongue he drew me nearer and nearer to the edge. I felt my balls contract and my cock begin to bob up and down and the tongue left me. I sobbed into the hood desperate to cum. The tiniest breath of air would have been enough to tip me over the edge but nothing. My cock continued to bounce up and down but I just couldn’t come and no matter how I struggled I could do nothing to bring myself off. The bastard had taken me close to the edge and just left me there. Gradually, very gradually I began to come down. A tongue flicked rapidly over my piss slit and down my shaft and I was on my way up again. As his tongue worked its magic I felt my balls tighten and I tried to push down to get my cock further into his mouth but once again he pulled away and I was left dangling on the edge. Every fibre of my being wanted to cum and I sobbed again as I knew it was not going to happen.

“It’s not going to happen unless I say so. I’m going to keep you like this until you WANT to talk and tell me what I want to know.”

So that was it. The only way to avoid talking also meant I could not cum. Well fuck you. I know my duty. Name, rank, number and date of birth only. To everything else – I can’t answer that question, sir.

“Fuck you” I mumbled through the tight leather hood. He must have heard or known what my response would be because he went to work straight away. Legs were freed and rebound together at the ankle and just above the knees. My head was released and arms were freed to be joined at the wrists. More straps went round my elbows and they were cinched together until they touched. My feet and wrists were pulled together and upwards. My hood was also pulled back and up until I was arced into a painful hog-tie. Just when I thought it could get no worse tiny tit clamps were attached to my exposed nipples and my balls were weighted from below. The arse strap kept my pelvis strapped down to the leather-padded table. I knew I couldn’t take this for long and tried to think of something to say that would convince my tormentor I was telling the truth and get him to release me from my agony. I held on as long as I could but the pain became worse.

“I’ll talk” I tried to say.

The ropes pulling my arms, feet and head up went slack and I sagged forward onto the tit clamps. I let out a cry and leather gloved hands lifted me up and removed them. My elbows were released and I lay trying to recover and get my breath.

“I know you’ll talk,” said the biker, “but anyone will talk under torture. That’s not enough. You have to want to talk to me. You have to tell the truth and you have to do it willingly.”

It was almost as if he knew my mind and my plan to lie. Well fuck it I couldn’t tell him what he wanted to know so I’d have to make damned sure I wouldn’t cum no matter what he did to me. I was not going to talk and I if I could not resist a bit of sexual torture then I shouldn’t be in the job. So do your worst “asshole”. In my anger the last word escaped from my mouth.

Once more I was repositioned prone on the table, strapped down and immobile. I prepared to resist. First came his mouth, only this time I was not going to rise. I thought of the torture I had just undergone and managed to control my breathing. The mouth withdrew. Right under my balls a gentle vibration began. The leather soldier had got a vibrator and was going to work on my balls. The sensation was like nothing I had experienced before. The steady throbbing went on and on and despite my best efforts I began to go hard. The head of the vibrator moved to my shaft and it was not long before I was erect again. How easily I had crumbled. But there was no way to make me cum against my will. Or so I thought. But the vibrator went on with its work. Up and down my shaft it roamed round my balls, perineum and of course my glans. Occasionally the soldier’s mouth took in the tip of my cock and kept it moist. With the foreskin back there was nothing to stop the head of my cock growing and it felt like it was bursting with blood. I was just beginning to reach the point of no return when the vibration stopped and a thin cord was wrapped around the base of my cock and balls and a couple of times round my ball sac. Now the blood was trapped and my balls couldn’t rise to release their load. I was not going to loose this erection in a hurry. Instead of the vibrator I now felt a light touch in the cracks at the top of my legs. The touch was very light but it did its job, not only did I stay erect but more blood poured into my engorged cock. I could feel the veins standing out down the shaft. The touch transferred to those veins and began to trace out their pattern. Up and down and all the time my balls are struggling to shoot their load and I am struggling to prevent them. But it was a loosing battle just as I had given in and allowed myself to cum all touch ceased. I yelled and sobbed and ached but nothing happened. If only I could get anything to touch me now I knew I could cum. I squirmed in my bonds but they held and I was powerless to do anything about my urgent need. “Please” I begged. “You know the answer” he replied. And so the cycle continued. I lost track of how many times I almost came. But I know how many times I did come. None.

I was weak with frustration and tiredness and on the point of giving in, but still thinking about lying when a particularly vigorous attack began. Tiny brushes and feathers tantalised my glans and piss slit and I was on the verge of cumming once more when with a final burst of resistance I yelled “Never” into the hood. All attention ceased and my erection died. The cord was removed from my cock and balls and the straps released on my body. I lay exhausted. A battle had been won but in my heart I knew it was only a temporary victory.

I hardly knew what was happening to me as I was made to stand by the table. The wrist/hand cuffs were removed and my arms were lifted in front of me. I felt the sleeves of a jacket slide up them. The jacket was on me before I realised that it must be a straight jacket. It felt like leather but I was in no position to judge. The back straps were tightened, I struggled a little as the arms were crossed but it did no good. Two straps between my legs were pulled up and tightened. My elbows were cinched back and my forearms strapped together in front. Then began a gradual tightening of all the straps in turn. I was guided forward and I felt more strapping placed round my head. Then my head was pulled up and I was supported in a standing position. A spreader bar went between my ankles and I was lost once more.

“I’m going to take a rest now but when I return we’ll work some more. You know you’ll talk in the end – but you won’t cum until you do. Think about it.”

As a parting gesture something was placed round my ball sac and then I felt the steady pull increase as weights were added. It wasn’t painful but I certainly wasn’t going to forget my balls.

“Don’t want to make this too easy, do we sir?” So, he had been watching for some time in the wood. He could have taken me earlier and didn’t. He had watched me struggle thinking I could escape before he had moved in. This soldier was a real sadist. He would have done well in the SAS. I briefly considered the possibility of getting some sleep in this position and then the white noise began. The hood must have had earphones built in because the noise was loud and direct. I gave up hope and abandoned myself to a miserable time whilst my captor rested.

 

Answers

I stood. I had no choice. The pull on my balls was constant and pressing. The cramping of my arms steadily worsened. I cried and tried to move my arms but the straps had no give and all I could do was move my fingers slightly. Every time I tried to move my body the weights on my balls started swinging. At least I couldn’t fall over! Only one man knows how long I stood there. It seemed like hours but I had no way of knowing. Eventually the noise ceased. Agonisingly slowly I was released from my living hell. The spreader bar was removed and the straps of the straightjacket undone. The heavy leather jacket was pulled away, the ball weights removed and I stood held by the head my arms hanging limply at my sides while the cramps eased. How much more of this could I take? How much should I take? Surely I had done the honourable thing and resisted long enough. The straps holding my head were released and I stood pathetic and almost broken. I was only hooded but I could not have fought back if my life depended on it. I was led by the attachment on my balls a short way and told to kneel. I did so. I was against some sort of bench. I was pushed forward over some padded surface and my arms hung down the sides. Yet again I moaned as straps secured my arms and legs over the contraption. When I was lashed down to my captor’s satisfaction, the hood was removed and I blinked in the bright light. My eyes hurt. I had been in darkness for a long time. I raised my head slightly to see shiny metal plates on biker’s leather boots. Working up, thick, black, padded, heavy-duty biker’s trousers enclosed powerful legs. An ammunition belt sat on his hips and more heavy-duty thick leather made up the bikers jacket which was done up to the neck. A black helmet, visor down, topped the lot. Slowly a heavily gloved hand pushed up the visor to reveal the still hooded face of my soldier captor.

“You think you’ve done well. But you going to need all your strength before I let you stand up from my special little cum-control bench. You are going to beg me to let you talk. And when you have, I’ll allow you to come.”

Kneeling down he forced a large hard-rubber gag into my mouth and buckled it behind my neck. There was a short tube protruding from it to which was attached a longer tube.

“Drink if you’re thirsty. You’ll need it.”

I sucked through the gag and pure sweet water entered my mouth for the first time since my captivity had begun. I drank my fill and the long tube was detached. I could now breathe through my nose and mouth even though still gagged and I felt refreshed and strengthened by the water and fresh air.

“Piss if you need to.” I did and as I released my bladder I saw the stream of strong coloured piss leave my dick and fall into a waiting bucket. I had not drunk anything since my abduction and the stream was quickly over. He removed the bucket out of my sight.

As the leather-man moved behind me I saw myself for the first time reflected in a large mirror. A rough unshaven face stared back and I saw I was strapped over a leather padded bench in an all fours position. My arse was spread and my cock and balls hung down between my spread legs. A leather parachute dangled from my balls. The biker seated himself behind my arse and removed the parachute. Then he took off his thick leather gloves and pulled on a pair of thin supple black leather gloves. Leaning forward his tongue flicked over my arsehole and around between my legs. I sucked in air and felt faint stirrings in my groin. He pulled away and reaching underneath the bench flicked up a small hinged plate. The plate came up between my legs and pushed my cock and balls back between my legs. I was still relatively soft and knew now that an erection was going to be a very painful thing and that it was going to be almost impossible to cum in such a position. My head dropped. And then jerked up again as the tongue flicked from the leather mask to cover my arse and balls in spit. On and on the tonguing continued until I was painfully hard pressing against the plate. Then a series of tiny brushes were used to tickle every crevice, every fold, every square inch of skin. The tickling was agonising and every so often a brush would touch my glans ensuring I stayed hard. I was close to cumming again and didn't think I could hold out any longer when the brushes stopped. I screamed. I had to cum. But I didn’t. Next a leather thong was sawed across the tip of my cock. I cried but it didn’t stop. I knew there was only one way out. I had to come without my captor realising it was going to happen until it was too late. So I began to resist the tickle torture. He attacked with tiny paintbrushes, toothbrushes, feathers and many more objects I could not see. I fought and stayed erect and close to the edge. Eventually I knew I was going to come and struggled to control my breathing. Giving in to the feelings coming from my cock, I prepared for orgasm. I couldn’t believe it when he stopped the assault and left me quivering and shaking and unfulfilled. I was beaten. I dropped my head and asked to talk as well as I could through my gag. The gag came off but the leather biker sat down again at my arse and began to bring me once more to the brink.

“Please let me cum and I’ll tell you anything you want to know.” I meant it.

The tickling continued.

“Please I’m begging you.”

The feather hesitated but did not stop.

“First you talk, then I allow you to cum.”

There was no way out. I talked. And all the time the sadist kept me erect. I told him everything I knew about the training and no-one knew more than me. When I had finished I pleaded to be brought to climax. But he just stopped.

“You promised,” I screamed.

“All I said was I would allow you to cum, not that I would make you cum. You now have my permission to cum.” In so saying he dropped the plate and my cock was freed. But there was to be no release of the kind I so desperately wanted. So this was my reward for betrayal. I cried and sagged in my bonds, and cried until exhaustion overtook me.

I woke to find the rope back between my teeth, paracord round my nuts and wearing my own shorts. My wrists were cuffed behind me and I was hobbled again. I looked up to see my leather master, as he now was, slip the green cotton sweat scarf back over my eyes. I was pulled to my feet and led by the balls out of the room and back downstairs to the garage. Into the van again and once more hogtied. The door closed, the engine and white noise started and it was if time had jumped and my ordeal was just about to start. It didn’t take long at the other end to be handcuffed and spread-eagled between the steel posts. My balls were lashed to the fifth post and the last lecture began. Everything had been photographed and would go to the military if I said a word. CSgt Norris would be phoned with the number I had supplied and told to come to the training area. Alone. I slept and was woken by hands removing my rope gag. It was Dave grinning down. “So you failed to escape boss. That’s not good. But where have you been?”

“Never mind that now just let me up. Anyway I can’t tell you where I’ve been.”

“Can’t. We’ll see about that. I warned you what would happen if you failed to escape and I’m a man of my word.” He replaced the gag and blindfold and then slipped a green cotton hood over my head. “Don’t go away,” he said, “I’ll go and fetch some of the boys.” Before leaving he tightened up the paracord attaching my balls to the peg. “Don’t want to make this too easy, do we sir?”

 

Square One

This was not happening to me. I couldn’t believe I’d been released by the biker only to find myself at the hands of my own men; and no sign of being able to toss off before they all returned for their fun. I kicked and struggled trying to loosen the pegs holding my feet, but when I had been returned, the biker had checked everything and spread-eagled me tighter than when I had been left the first time. And then Dave had retightened the paracord to my balls before disappearing again. So I was in a worse situation than before my abduction if that was possible. This time I couldn’t rub the blindfold off because of the hood and anyway there was probably no key dangling above me. I tried moving my pelvis to see if the pull on my balls would be enough to at least give me an erection. It was, but only with much effort. My sore dick rose again and began to rub against the rough cotton of my shorts. It was painful but behind the pain was the chance of an orgasm and that was all I wanted now. Eventually I felt some precum begin to leak from my cock. So absorbed was I in attaining my goal that it was only at the last minute that I heard footsteps and knew the team had arrived. There I was with a raging erection and my own men watching me struggle. I stopped and a hand reached into my flies, freed my cock and then gave it a good slap. I grunted in pain.

“Hello again boss,” laughed ‘Cuff’ Norris. More laughter escaped from the assembled men. I think I heard at least four people but couldn’t be sure inside my hood. “I see you’ve been busy, but not busy enough. You should have spent the time trying to escape instead of jacking off. There was a key right by your left hand.” I screamed in frustration. I could have freed myself and jacked off before their return. I would have been in a much stronger position to call the whole thing off. Now I was helpless and they all knew how in need of an orgasm I was.

“Don’t say you weren’t warned, sir. If you’d escaped you would have avoided phase 2 of your initiation. As it is you didn’t escape twice and that’s a record, so we’re going to have to come up with something really special for you. Now let’s have a look at the size of the problem.” I felt the leg of my shorts ridge up and then a knife slid through the fabric and severed the waist band. A couple more cuts and I was stark naked.

“Well now, it seems someone has been busy with a razor. I don’t remember that baby smooth skin when we left you. Do you boys?”

A round of noes confirmed the rhetorical question.

“Up with him lads. Let’s see if we can’t cover him up a bit”

I was untied and helped to my unsteady feet. But arms cuffed behind my back. “Don’t want you touching the family jewels just yet!” History repeated itself and I found myself being led by the balls, this time stark naked, through the woods. Nettles swinging over my body helped me on my way and switches were cut and used on my smooth legs to guide me through the undergrowth. Soon I heard the sound of running water and knew we must be by the stream. A trip from behind and I found myself rolling down the bank into the stream. The cold was intense but took away some of the stinging from the nettles. Hands grabbed me under the armpits and dragged me from the water, dumping me face down in the mud. The bag over my head was wet and I could hardy breathe. It was whipped away along with the blindfold and I saw for the first time my new captors. Four men in full combat gear and webbing stood in front of me. But under their helmets were black balaclavas. I couldn’t identify my assailants. Of course I knew Dave Norris was one of them but that’s all I knew. Without a word they closed in and I was rolled in the thick, sticky, slimy, mud of the stream. Handfuls of mud were picked up and smeared around my cock and balls, up the crack of my arse, all over my body and head. I was covered from head to toe in mud. I was pulled out shivering from the river. “You may have lost all your hair but at least now you’ve got a new covering to keep you warm. Or at least it will when it’s dry. Let’s go”

A tug on my balls told me to move and this time I had to trot to keep up. We emerged from the woods and neared the derelict farm I had left so long ago now. “OK, the fun’s over, time to get you warm and dry sir.” Thank god the end was in sight. But instead of releasing me I was taken to an outbuilding, and with a length of rope from each foot, I was suspended from a beam, legs slightly akimbo. The cuffs were taken off and my hands tied out to upright posts at my sides in a sort of inverted crucifix. Mud slipped down my legs to my crotch. The paracord was taken off my nuts and some of the mud at my crotch used to resmear my balls. Next a fire was built and soon I was drying off but I quickly realised the mud was going to harden on my body. It was not a pleasant feeling. “OK, like I said, the fun’s over. Now to business.” CSgt Norris sounded like he meant it. “There are four of us from the unit and each of us is going to set you an endurance test. During each test you’ll get the chance to name your tester. If you’re right the test will end. If you’re wrong the test will continue and you’ll get another chance later on. Oh, and to give the tests some realism we’ll be asking you some questions to find out where you’ve been. Of course, you can’t answer, sir. So we’ll just have to see what it takes to persuade you to change you mind. Let the tests begin”

 

Test One

I was taken down from the inverted crucifix position. Mud crumbled from my limbs. The contents of a Bergen were tipped on the floor. Still only Dave spoke. “Put this on.” I was handed a filthy, muddy US style footballer’s jock strap. I slipped it on. “Now put this inside the jock.” I was given a US ‘Bike’ Cup. It was full of mud. “Don’t spill any.” I leant forward at the waist and lifting the jock to one side pushed the cup over my cock and balls. I got everything inside and repositioned the jock strap, which held the cup close to my body, making sure I couldn’t touch my cock. Some mud oozed down the insides of my leg but nothing was said. “ Now these.” A pair of combat trousers were next but like everything else so far they were covered inside and out in mud. Whoever had done it had done a very good job. I struggled to pull the sticky trousers over my legs and eventually got them on. After a great deal of effort I got the flies closed. A lightweight tropical DPM shirt was next, muddy of course. Boots were handed over and as I slipped my bare feet into them, I realised they were full of mud. It squelched between my toes. I laced them up as best I could with slippy hands on slippy laces. “Now I’m going to remove your gag. Do not speak yet or you will suffer.” The rope was unwound and I was handed a soggy mess of a balaclava with only a slit for eyes. I worked my mouth whilst I could to relieve the stiffness from the rope gag and pulled on the mask. Mud oozed into my ears and round my mouth. Everything I had on was clinging to me like a second skin. By the side of the fire the clothing quickly began to dry out. Four men sat down to watch. I was told to stand in the ‘At Ease’ position and not to move until I was completely dry back and front. I was permitted to turn round once when my front was dry. Whilst my back dried I observed the four men from my unit trying to identify anything which would help me later on in my tests. But there is nothing quite like combat gear for preserving the anonymity of the wearer especially with balaclavas. Hands occasionally reached inside webbing pouches and I saw plasticuffs, paracord, hoods and other restraint gear so common and readily available in the unit. I’m sure it was deliberate. Smiling eyes watched me dry. More than a couple of hands adjusted balls in pockets and I’m sure I saw the outline of an erection in one pair of particularly tight DPM trousers. If I thought I was finished with the muddy clothing I was wrong. Layer after layer was added, jumper, scrim scarf, a second pair of combat trousers, a flak jacket and combat jacket with integral cold weather hood. At every stage I had to dry and it took longer and longer as I struggled to move in my mud prison. But time was something they obviously had. The fire was kept burning with branches from the wood outside. I hardened in my casing of mud. As a final measure, buckets of mud were brought in from outside and I had to stand like a figure X whilst 8 hands smeared mud over my body. This was repeated three times and in the end I could not lift my arms for the mud to be applied, so they had to help and squeezed the mud up into my armpits and around the tops of my legs. At last it seemed I was ready and my questioning began.

“I can’t answer that question, sir” I repeated time after time to every enquiry about where I had been. Whatever my situation I knew I would lose all respect with my men if I answered in any other way. Eventually I was asked whose test this was and told I could answer. I didn’t really know but in view of the fact that I had been packed in mud guessed at Sgt Packer. I was wrong.

“On with the endurance test. He still needs more time and perhaps another clue.” So there were going to be clues. I had another chance. But not before I was wrapped in another layer. This time mud caked scrim scarves were wrapped around my body starting at my feet and working up, trapping my arms against my sides. The wrapping continued and I was dried out again by the fire turned and steadied on my feet by one soldier in particular. I guessed he was the deviser of the test but I couldn’t identify him from the cam-creamed eyes which were all that was visible to me. After I was completely dry, I was wrapped in a final layer of black gaffer tape and lifted outside by all four of the men. I was mummified in mud and couldn’t move a muscle other than to nod my head slightly. Once outside I was lifted to the edge of a slit trench. I was placed on the ground and a sleeping bag zipped up around me. The down filled hood was pulled over my head and the drawstring tightened until I could just see out. I was then turned over and laid face down in a second sleeping bag. It was zipped up but the hood was left down. I was heaved down and planted at one end of the trench. I must have looked like some giant insect cocoon. A wall of sandbags was built in front of my feet. As soon as it reached the height of my knees earth was tipped into the hole and pressed down compactly over my feet and around my legs. The wall of sandbags was raised and the in-filling continued. It didn’t take long before I was buried up to the neck and six pairs of feet stamped the earth down. One man dropped down in front of me and the hood of the second sleeping bag was raised and tightened round my face. I was relieved to find I could still breathe – just. The questioning resumed. I had to shout to be heard. “I can’t answer that question, sir” I answered time and again, hour after hour. On and on the questioning continued until at last the question I had been waiting for. “Whose test is this?” I had been using the monotony of my replies to give myself time to think. Who in the unit would have a US footballer’s jock and cup? Several, I knew had been to the states and several in the unit were keen on American football. I had overheard them laughing at the mud-covered players in many games shown on the crew room TV. But what else? I had been buried in a pit for a reason and it must be a clue. Of course. The only possible link was the unit’s sports fanatic and American football fan Corporal Pitman. I gave my answer and waited. The sleeping bag hood was pulled away from my face; the soldier in front of me removed his helmet and balaclava. “Correct, sir.” Cpl Pitman grinned. “Test one complete.”

 

Test Two

The sand bag wall was dismantled and the earth pulled away. I was lifted from the slit trench, the sleeping bags were removed and the gaffer tape unwound. I was carried once more to the stream, dumped in the water and left to struggle. The water soaked into the dry mud and gave a tiny degree of movement. By rolling in the shallow water I unwound the scrim scarves. The clothing was now soaked through, very heavy and cold. Layer by layer I removed the sodden filthy combat gear. Finally I stripped off the jock and prised the mud filled protective cup from around my cock and balls.

“Time to get you warmed up again.”

One of the soldiers separated from the group. He dropped a long hank of black climbing rope and set to work tying my wrists together. He used plenty of rope round and between my wrists and attached a long rope which he threw over a branch. Eager hands pulled on the end and stretched me up. Next my new assailant removed a tube from one of the pouches of his webbing. Grabbing my dick he pulled back the foreskin and rubbed some cream on my glans. Squeezing the foreskin back he clipped a couple of spring-loaded clothes pegs to the end of my foreskin. He admired his handiwork and then began to tie a length of black paracord round and between my nuts stretching and separating them. They too got a coating of cream. He attached another long length of rope to my cock and balls. By this time the cream began its work. It was obviously some sort of deep heat or algipan type cream and the burning was growing. Wrapping a small stone in paracord he attached that to my balls so that it hung down just below my knees. The rope holding me up was released and I was pulled towards a landrover. The end of the hand rope was attached to the rear of the land rover and the ball rope shortened until it was just off the ground. Three of the men jumped in the land rover. It started up and moved forwards. I started walking and the landrover speeded up. A soon realised I was going to have to jog to keep up or loose my balls. I had to run bow legged to stop the stone banging on my shins. The clothes pegs on my foreskin bobbed up and down at every step and tugged very slightly at my burning cock. I had no boots on but the ground was soft, wet and grassy and so didn’t cause too many problems. My new tormentor ran easily along side me giving me plenty of verbal abuse. Every time I faltered he would yell at me. “Only two more miles, sir. Come on. Push it out.” I staggered on. The ball rope would occasionally snag in vegetation and I would have to use my bound hands to pull it clear as I ran. Every time this happened I was yelled at and told to keep the rope off the ground, but I could only do that by dropping back slightly. I was getting dizzy from lack of food and sleep but pushed on, my lungs heaving with the effort. The light was almost gone now and the landrover did not turn its lights on, making it difficult to judge the distance. Once or twice I felt a sharp pull on my hands and had to speed up again. Lights ahead told me we were nearing some buildings. The landrover slowed. “Only one more mile, sir” yelled my fellow runner; the landrover speeded up again. I yelled knowing I couldn’t go on. But then the rover slowed and stopped. It was just one last little joke – typical PT Instructor’s trick. I had certainly warmed up. I lent forward, but was ordered to stand upright. The ball and hand leads came off along with the stone. My shins were bruised and grazed from the run. And then out came the cream again. This time it was rubbed into my tits and another clothes peg went on each nipple. My hands were untied. “Front support position go. Give me twenty.” Every time I lowered my body the clothes pegs on my nipples and cock hit the ground twisting slightly. I winced and pushed up again. Normally I would have no difficulty but I was so exhausted I knew I could not make the twenty. My trainer had other ideas. In the front support position I was told to spread my legs. He attached another cord to my balls and every time I hesitated trying to rest on the ground he would pull on my balls. No mercy was shown. Eventually I completed the set and to further verbal abuse was ordered to my feet. Next were chin-ups. I began my set of twenty from a sturdy branch but was stopped and told to just hang. One of the muddy boots I had worn was tied to the ball cord. It remained on the ground for about half of the chin-up and then I would have to lift it to complete the exercise. This meant I either did the exercise very slowly or yanked my balls with each rep. After a few pull-ups, the effort was too much and I dropped from the branch. “You’ll be punished for that.” I was pulled to my feet and my forearms tied together horizontally behind my back. Four men then lifted me up by my arms and legs more cream was applied to my balls and arse crack and I was carried to a wooden fence where my arse crack was positioned over the top rail. My feet were tied together under the second lower rail so I couldn’t push down to relieve the pressure. The green cotton hood dropped once more over my head and the questioning began. This time, every time I answered “I can’t answer that question, sir; one of the clothes pegs was flicked or someone kicked the boot hanging from my balls causing me to stumble over answers, leading to more pain. The burning and pressure between my legs were making me desperate. At last the question I could answer. “Whose test is this?” I had known all along from his voice that it was RM PTI CSgt Hughes; but I was not permitted to say until asked, which is why the naked PT session had gone on so long before I was questioned. I gave my answer. The hood came off and looked into the Hughes’ eyes. “Correct.”  The hood went back on again. I was freed from the fence and all my bindings and led by the thumbs POW fashion back to the farm. There I was pushed down onto all fours and the hood removed. In front of me was one mess tin full of water and another filled with cold baked beans, cold fatty bacon-burgers from a rat pack and crumbled dry compo biscuits. I was told to eat and drink but that if I used my hands I would get no rest before my next endurance test. I badly needed that rest and so set about eating from the mess tins. The mud still on my face and in my hair fell in the food, but I did not care. I got all I could from the tin and then lapped at the water until I could get no more. I was told that if I wanted a piss, I had to do it like a dog, because I could not be trusted to touch my cock without jacking off. Totally humiliated, plastered in river mud, with a face covered in food, I pissed on the floor between my legs. When I had finished the hood was put over my head and I was laid in a sleeping bag. It was zipped up leaving my hands outside. The bag was wrapped in black gaffer tape and my arms taped to my sides. “No touching,” mocked a voice. I was then placed inside a second sleeping bag and the draw-cord tightened around my face. A rope was wrapped around my feet and another round my neck and I was stretched out between two posts to prevent any escape. With only two tests complete and another two to go, I fell into a deep sleep.

 

Test Three

I woke to find myself being tipped out of the sleeping bag. The hood was removed and the Black gaffer tape cut away before the second bag was unzipped. For the first time in days I was free of all bondage and I was neither blindfolded nor gagged. All would have been well but for the four masked soldiers standing round me looking at my morning’s rock hard erection.

“Take him outside for a piss and a dump then string him up whilst we have some scran.” One of them grabbed my cock vary hard and led me outside with two others at my shoulders holding my arms by the elbows.

They took me to the edge of the wood. I was made to piss and shit like a dog again. A webbing pouch was opened and a reel of fishing line taken out. My nuts were tied with the line and a short loop was tied off. Meanwhile a tent peg was driven into the ground and I was made to sit on the ground so the peg was between my legs. I had to shuffle forward on my arse when the loop on my balls was attached to the peg and gasped as a hammer drove the peg deep into the ground, inches from my balls. Plasticuffs were tightened on my wrists, behind my back. I was going nowhere. The three men turned towards me unzipped their flies and pissed on me, then they wandered back to the farm. I stank. Only the flies liked the smell. I winced as I moved to dodge a fly and marvelled that a simple tent peg could immobilise me so completely. If I raised my knees my hips moved and the fishing line bit into my skin. I straightened my legs again. I tried getting my hands round but the peg was right at the V of my legs and I couldn’t reach it. I tried leaning back and the line pulled and bit into my ball sac again. I had no choice but to sit upright legs straight and wait.

After their breakfast all four men still in full combat gear, balaclavas and helmets emerged from round the side of a building. They were carrying two live and kicking rabbits, their mess tins and a bucket. “Time for some food”.

 The rabbits were swiftly killed and then their throats cut. The blood was allowed to drain all over my head and ran down my back and chest.

“You must be used to this from your survival course.” The blood was warm and sticky and soon attracted more flies which I could do nothing about. The guts were removed from the rabbits and smeared over my whole body. The flies gathered in greater numbers. A length of gut was tied around my cock and balls and more was strung round my neck. Next the remains of breakfast was tipped over me from the mess tins. One man rubbed the food over me whilst another emptied the food slops bucket over my head. Wet tea bags were ripped open and rotten tomatoes and fruit pelted my body. I was a disgusting mess and as I twisted and turned the fishing line bit into my tender sac.

A thin green cotton sweat scarf was tied tightly round my eyes.

“We’ll be back in eight hours to ask you some questions.”

The sticky filth dried on my body and the rabbit guts began to smell. My whole body was itching from the mess and the inquisitive, crawling insects. I could not reach the blindfold and I could not move to rub it off. I spent the whole day in misery trying to avoid the unavoidable flies.

My four tormentors returned.

“Whose test is this?”

I wished I knew. I guessed at Sgt Campion because of his catering background but I knew the answer was wrong before I said it.

“Let the test continue.”

A man bent down and tied off the end of my prick with more fishing line. “You’ll need that,” he said cryptically. The line to the peg was cut and I was told to stand. My cock was pulled down and more fishing line wrapped the lot. The flies buzzed around me but kept up their attack. A pair of what felt like dried, muddy shorts was pulled up my legs and the bottoms were taped to my legs with gaffer tape. Next my wrists were secured to an overhead branch, pulling them up my back slightly. I was held tightly by two men and a hand clamped over my mouth. Whilst the top of my shorts was held open, I felt a living stream pour into my shorts. “Look after these maggots; they’re hungry.” laughed a voice and a hand pushed more and more into my shorts, squeezing them down back and front. I writhed and struggled as the maggots wriggled around my arse, cock and balls searching for the rotting meat. When he could get no more maggots in, the top of the shorts was taped to my body with more gaffer tape. I was released and ran around, as much as my short tether allowed, screaming. The tickling sensation was intense and unrelenting. I was going crazy. The maggots wormed their way into the crack of my arse and between the strands of fishing line. I couldn’t get my hands anywhere near the source of the tickling and the insects followed me everywhere.

“Five minutes and the maggots go on your bagged head.”

I couldn’t think. I was literally going mad. What was the link? What were the clues? Fishing line, offal, flies and maggots. Of course fishing. “Cpl Fischer” I yelled.

“You haven’t bee asked yet. Five minutes.”

It was the longest five minutes of my life. I had to be right. I would do almost anything to get the shorts off. I just could not take maggots round my head.

“Whose test is this?”

“Cpl Fischer.”

 There was a pause. I screamed “No!”

“Correct.”

 

Test Four

I had got through three tests, but only just. I was a broken man. I knew that if the next test began, whilst I was still dressed like this I would break. I started to cry as the rope gag went in my mouth and the green cotton hood dropped once again over my head. Thank god, the shorts were removed, but I was left a filthy stinking fly bothered mess. A cord was attached to the fishing line and I was led through the wood, maggots falling from my arse crack, to what turned out to be the back of a four-tonner and was spread-eagled standing in the back. My body was attacked with stiff brushes. It was agony but it drove the flies away. We left the flies behind and drove for a long time.

 Eventually I stopped crying and just hung from my bonds. Hands lifted me out of the lorry and I was led inside a building by my balls. Silence. The hood and blindfold came off and I recognised the changing rooms of the gym back at camp. Together, the four men took off their combat helmets and balaclavas.

“Well done boss.” “Fucking good effort.” CSgt Norris grabbed me. “Sorry you didn’t get a chance to name me in the final test sir, but we thought you’d had enough. No-one has ever been through three tests before and we didn’t think you would make the fourth. So we decided to let you quit on a high. If you’ll forgive the pun.” I sank to the floor. It was over and we were back at camp. I had made it. And I hadn’t told them what had happened to me. I was safe. Norris spoke again “You look a mess, sir. In fact we all do. Cpl Pitman, get those showers working, the boss needs a wash.” I walked through to the communal showers and stood for a long time under the gushing hot water. I removed the rope gag, the cord to my balls and the ropes hanging from my wrists and ankles but I couldn’t get the fishing line off so I had to leave it for a while. I was joined in the showers by my four tormentors who now laughed and congratulated me on my performance giving me friendly punches and slaps on the arse. I rinsed the filth from my body and luxuriated in the heat. The men began to leave. Soon only Dave and myself remained in the shower. He spoke sincerely and said well done again on my performance. He paused and then asked where I had disappeared to and how come I was shaved all over. I wanted to talk him but I just couldn’t. I apologised and said that one day I hoped I could tell him, but not now. He said he understood and we chatted some more. Dave said he would give me a lift home and we left the showers. Everyone else had gone. I sat on the bench in a daze while Dave dried himself and then borrowed his towel when I realised I didn’t have one. He got dressed in his combats again and then we both laughed when we realised I had no clothes. No problem said Dave; I’ll nip to my locker in the mess and get you something. He ran out and I waited. I was grateful my leave had begun after the exercise so I would not be questioned officially on my absence. I guessed the men would want to keep any initiation ceremonies quiet as they were very much frowned on by the hierarchy. A short while later, in through the door walked a black leather biker. My heart skipped a beat until I realised it was Dave.

 “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

“No. No problem I was daydreaming that’s all and you made me jump.”

“Here try these on. They’re my spare leathers. We’re about the same size. If you’re getting a lift home on the bike, you’ll need them. No socks or shorts I’m afraid but we’re not going far so it doesn’t matter. You’re clean now!”

I wondered about mentioning the fishing line and then said “I’m sorry, but I can’t get the fishing line off.”

“Let me try,” said Dave and knelt down in his leathers at my feet. In its fishing line trap my cock stirred slightly. His hands tried to find a loose end but only succeeded in tightening the mess.

“I haven’t got a knife with me, I’ll have to try my teeth.”

Hot lips wrapped my balls.

“Stop. I’ll manage for now and sort it out when I get home.”

“OK if you’re sure.”

I am fractionally bigger than Dave so the unlined leather trousers were skin tight by the time I had got them on. The feel and smell of the leather brought back recent memories and getting my wrapped cock and nuts inside was both difficult and painful. I pulled on the boots and fastened the Velcro and then slid on the jacket. He handed me a helmet. “Leathers suit you,” he said and with a glance at my crotch walked out of the changing rooms. I followed him and got even harder when I heard the creak of the leather and felt it move over my smooth skin. It was dark. I pulled on the helmet and got carefully on the back of his bike. He guided my hands round his waist and said “You’re tired boss. I don’t want you falling off after all you’ve been through. He reached into a pocket in his jacket and before I realised what was happening he had my wrists handcuffed round his waist. Then he reached back and flipped down the visor on my helmet. It was completely opaque. “What the fuck!”

“Sorry boss but I’m a man of my word. I promised four endurance tests and you’ve only had three. And I still want to know who gave you that shave.”

The bike roared away. I grabbed Dave’s waist as best I could with the cuffs on and felt the unmistakable bulge of an erection in his trousers. His pelvis shifted against me and I rubbed his cock through the leather. I liked Dave and he seemed to like me. Perhaps the next test wouldn’t be so bad after all. The bike drew up and we both got off together. He put the bike on its stand and then slid down through my arms. I went to lift the visor but was stopped. I didn’t resist as he efficiently cuffed my hands behind me. I heard a sliding garage door close. Being dressed in leather biker’s gear, sightless and handcuffed was intensely erotic. The thought of Dave in his full leathers in control of me was very exciting. Dave’s hand found my growing cock and gave it a gentle squeeze. Then he dropped to his knees and started to lick my groin. Heaven. His hot mouth wrapped around my cock and balls. The hard yet soft pressure of his tongue lapping my balls was bringing me close to orgasm even though I could not get erect. I hoped he would let me cum in his skin tight leathers. I was close and began to moan in ecstasy. Nearer and nearer, harder and harder. At last the longed for orgasm was going to happen. His mouth pulled away. “No. Don’t stop. I’m about to cum.” I begged.

“No you’re not said a voice.” But it was not Dave.

Up went the visor and I saw two identical leather bikers. One opened his visor and I saw it was Dave. The other lifted his visor and all I saw was a leather mask with holes for eyes and mouth. I looked around. I was back in the same garage as before.

Dave stepped forward. “Allow me to introduce my cousin. I believe you’ve already met. We are going to be sharing your leave with you. ”

The other man stepped forward. And snapped down my visor. He undid my flies and pulled my wrapped throbbing packet out. Grabbing the lot in his hand he used it to lead me. I knew where we were going. I begged and pleaded not go back to the cum-control room but to no avail. My boots and biker trousers were removed and I was pushed down onto the familiar shape of the leather-padded horse. My legs were strapped down. The cuffs and jacket came off and the top half of my body was strapped down too. The helmet was the last thing to be removed. I looked to the side into the mirror. I was back on my belly, arse up, cock and balls tightly wrapped but vulnerable. At my arse sat the masked biker. At my head knelt Dave, also now masked.

“One year ago you interrogated on an SAS selection exercise. One of the men you tricked into talking was my cousin who is sitting behind you.” A hand stroked my balls. “On the floor in front of you is a list of forty names from that exercise. You know how an endurance test works by now. First you will be tickle tortured and be denied the pleasure of cumming. Then you will be given the chance to choose a name from the list and identify your tester. If you are wrong, the test goes on. If you are right you will be brought to orgasm; finally allowed to cum. I hope for your sake that you have a good memory. One last thing, to prevent you talking until you are asked to name your tester you will be gagged.” At this he unzipped his flies and inserted his dick in my mouth. “We don’t want to make this too easy, do we sir? Let the test begin.”

 

More Questions

I must have been held captive by Dave and his leather biker cousin for about three days by now. I don’t know for sure because I had no means of judging time other than the rhythm of ‘torture’ sessions and meals. Food was always the same. Cold compo bacon burgers, which I hate, cold baked beans and crumbled dry biscuits. I ate it all even though it was served in a dog bowl in my cage. I spent my time naked, in irons, locked in a small steel cage, on the floor of which was a padded mat. I couldn’t stretch out and I couldn’t stand, in fact I could barely kneel. I remembered the US prisoners of war in Vietnam who had been kept in dog kennel sized boxes for months and even years. I felt a real sense of empathy with them. I also had a complicated steel cock cage on and my hands were enclosed in leather bags to prevent me playing with myself. So, thinking about it, even if I’d had a plate with knives and forks I couldn’t have used them. The dog bowl was slid into the cage through a horizontal slot at one end and was followed by another bowl of water. In fact I always had water but had to slide it just out of the cage when I slept to avoid knocking it over. The bright overhead light was always on but I was always so exhausted when I was placed back in my cage that I slept immediately though never for long or deeply. My head had been hooded virtually since my arrival. The hood was made of black leather. It had pinprick holes at the eyes and nose and an open mouth. When I was being tortured a gag filled my mouth and a blindfold went over my eyes. I had actually grown quite fond of my hood and loved the smell of the leather but I hadn’t told my captors in case this luxury was taken away from me.

The door of the room opened and in walked two men, dressed head to toe in leather. I was familiar with the sight but it still never failed to turn me on.

“He’s pleased to see us. Look at his cock.”

It was true, despite days of torture my cock had begun to swell inside its cage.

“Time to come out and play.”

The cage door was opened and I backed out on hands and knees. When I was almost out, one man stood with his legs either side of me and slipped a blindfold over my eyes. I was made to stand. The weight of the chains pulled on my neck collar. I heard something being lifted into the room. I shuffled forward, guided by the chain joining neck to waist, to a high-backed chair made of metal, judging by the sound my irons made against it. I sat on the cold seat. My left ankle was freed and immediately pulled backwards and off the floor and strapped to the chair. This was repeated with my right leg leaving my legs wide open. The metal waist belt came off and another strap secured me to the chair back. My left hand was released from its manacle and secured behind the chair back. My right hand was similarly strapped and finally the metal collar was removed and in its place a leather collar pulled my head back against the chair.

“You’ve grown a bit of stubble and we’ve decided you need another shave.”

Limb by limb I was shaved with a dry razor. The feeling was very pleasant. When they came to shave my crotch I discovered there was no seat between my legs so they were able to release the cock cage quite easily. The razor on my sensitive cock and balls was electrifying and I rose to the occasion once more.

“He’s beginning to enjoy his stay with us. You know I really don’t think he’ll want to leave.”

To shave my arse and back, my ankles were re-strapped so that my feet were on the floor, then the top half of my body was freed and I had to stand wrists secured to ankles bent over double. When shaven, I was re-secured to the chair and the collar and hood removed. I was sitting in front of a mirror in the tiny room which held my cage and stared at the impossible image of myself, naked, shaved smooth and strapped into a fiendish ladder backed chair. I had a good few days beard and I looked haggard. Foam was applied to my face and I was shaved. It was a very peculiar feeling to look at myself whilst two black leather-clad men shaved me.

“You also need a haircut,” said CSgt Norris. “And don’t even think about complaining or the gag goes back in.”

I always have a number four on top and three at the back and sides and I was well overdue for a haircut. Anyway, my mouth was always tired after a gag so I said nothing.

The clippers went to work on the sides and I watched in horror as a number one cut emerged from beneath the shears. But what was worse was the fact that down the centre of my head they left the longer hair, giving me a Mohican. How was I going to explain that one away when I got back to work? I’d just have to have a number one all over to get rid of it. I looked like a punk but I could do nothing for the moment.

Back in my hood and bagged hands I was led next door for my next session of torture and more opportunities to guess my assailant’s name. My arms were fed down the arms of a leather straight jacket. The two groin straps and all the back straps tightened and then my arms crossed and secured. The feel of the leather on my shaved skin was fantastic. After God knows how many days of bondage I was just beginning to accept to myself that I had enjoyed being tied up. Apart from the cum-control torture and the maggot/fly experience I had had a good time and had in fact lived out more than a couple of suppressed fantasies. I realised rose tinted glasses were being used and that I had become conditioned to my treatment. Nevertheless, my attitude to bondage had changed considerably and I was certainly ready to speak candidly to Dave Norris after this was all over. But for now I just had to survive the cum-control torture and get my captor’s name. I had already gone through over half the names on the list and so there was a good chance I would guess correctly in this session.

I was placed face down on the floor and my legs were strapped together at ankles and just above the knee. A link rope joined my ankles to the shoulder strap and was pulled very very tight. My body was forced into a severe arc. I have never felt anything quite like it. My cock sprang to attention and I gasped in pleasure. The link rope was then attached to a winch and I was hoisted off the floor. Everything tightened and I nearly came on the spot. I was left spinning with the tip of my cock just touching the floor. I began a pathetic struggle in the hope that the motion would excite my balls to orgasm but I was quickly hoisted well off the floor and set spinning and rocking again. A leather thong tightened around the base of my cock and balls and the blood throbbed in the veins, bursting to escape my cock which was bobbing up and down of its own accord. The feeling of cold lube being rubbed over its length was fantastic and then very slowly a hand slid up and down my shaft keeping me fully erect but never coming near to making me cum. I now fantasised about cumming so often that my body was almost immune. Indeed I was beginning to wonder if I would ever be released and allowed to cum. After what seemed like an hour, a thumb and forefinger gently gripped my glans and the speed picked up. I was so close and the moan of pleasure quickly turned to frustration as all motion ceased. The gag came out and the familiar list was shown to me once more. I guessed wrong. The gag went back in and I was lowered to the floor. The exquisite hog tie was released and I was secured by the neck with legs spread wide, facing the mirror. I looked at the top half of my body wrapped in black leather and I liked what I saw. My shaved legs were forced apart by a spreader bar and two men clad in skin tight leathers set about teasing my cock and balls. My view was not good through the holes in the hood but I could see they both had hard-ons underneath their shiny black jeans. In between keeping me hard with fingers, feathers and lube, they would suck each others dicks through the leather. The sight was intensely erotic and again I nudged closer to orgasm. As one of them came in his jeans I almost cried from the mixture of pleasure at the sight and envy at being able to come so easily.

“You want that so badly, don’t you,” mocked Dave.

The gag came out. “What is my cousin’s name?”

“Sgt Ian Robert Ingram I guessed.”

“At last,” said the second man, “you’ve finally got it.”

“Thank God, now please, keep your promise and let me cum.”

“All in good time,” said Dave as he applied more lube to my glistening throbbing dick. “First, you’ve got to make a decision.”

“A decision? No problem, I’ll do whatever I need to, to get relief.”

“Oh I know that. The choice is this.” His hand speeded up as he once more took my foreskin and worked it backwards and forwards over the tip of my cock. “Either you cum now, ONCE, and never see this room and we leather men again,” he rubbed even harder, “or you join our select little club and you get to have bondage sex whenever we, the club, meets.” I was close now. “We’ve seen how much you’ve enjoyed watching us and even how much you’ve enjoyed the bondage. Look at today in your straight jacket hog tie. You loved it and you’re loving watching this aren’t you?” It was true and they knew it. There was no point in denying it. His hand gripped my cock and slathered more lube on it pushing me closer and closer towards orgasm. “So what’s it to be?” I was on the verge now. “Once, or join the club?” And just on the edge he stopped. Do I cum now as every fibre of my body ached to do? Or do I delay and have what I secretly dreamed of. I hovered. A finger stroked my piss slit. My whole body clenched in ecstasy. “Now or later? This is decision time. If you pause any longer I’ll bring you off in the orgasm of a lifetime and you’ll never have the choice again.” Sgt Ingram knelt and his lips closed oh so gently around my cock. “What’s your answer?”

“Later, later, I’ll join the club.” The lips withdrew. I felt the cool air around my cock.

“You won’t regret that decision.”

But at that moment I did. I wanted to cum. I wanted to cum with these two men. I wanted their leather arms to wrap me and tie me up and make me helpless. I wanted to submit and I wanted sex, now and again and again. But I couldn’t. Not yet.

They let me calm down. The bottom of the straight jacket was loosened and for what I hoped would be the last time for a while, the cock cage was secured round my cock and balls.

“I’m sorry we still can’t trust you not to play with yourself. Tonight you will meet the rest of the club members and I promise you the orgasm of your life but until then, this stays on.” The bottom of the straight jacket was re-applied and the arms loosened slightly. Just enough to allow some movement but not enough to escape or enable me to reach my cock.

“Until tonight.” A blindfold went back on cutting off the sight holes.

I was left alone. I thought for hour after hour about cumming. My cock strained in its cage as I fantasised about leather hands controlling my body. I was rarely soft all day, even when my arms began to tire of their confinement. I moved them as much as I could to ease the strain but all I really thought about was my cock and how soon it would get the release it so badly wanted; I so badly wanted.

 

Consequences

At last I heard a door open. My feet were released. The straight jacket came off with the cage and my cock sprang free. Nothing was said. Hands guided me through the doorway and placed me against an inclined cold metal grid. My wrists and ankles were circled by soft leather cuffs and I was gently and not too tightly spread against the grid. Still nothing was said. The hood was loosened and slid up. I looked ahead and saw a leather biker still in head to toe black leather and black helmet. There was also a man in full combats with a black balaclava under his green beret; a man dressed as a US bike cop wearing reflective sunglasses; and a man in a full length diving suit with face mask and large rubber gloves on his hands. A fifth man walked from behind me, carrrying my hood. He was dressed like the leather masters I had seen in magazines. He wore boots, chaps and a studded leather pouch. His smooth glistening chest was wrapped in a harness, the vertical strap of which disappeared into his bulging pouch. Leather straps went round his wrists and biceps and he wore fingerless leather gloves, a leather waistcoat and a leather executioner’s hood. The sight of these five men dressed as I had only ever fantasised made my cock stir and grow.

“You wanted to join the club, then let the initiation begin.”

Five men closed on my body. I watched them and I watched myself in the mirror, bound and naked and totally helpless and loving it.

As the top of the metal grating was lifted into a vertical position, the Master approached.

“You must first accept your status within the club. You are nothing until this initiation is complete. You are ours to deal with as we see fit. You will get your orgasm but you can ask for nothing. You will speak only when you are spoken to and you will say sir before and after every reply.

“Do you understand?”

“Sir, yes sir.”

Hands released my wrists and ankles.

“Put this on.”

I was handed a wide plain leather collar. I buckled it around my neck and the Master gave me a padlock which I attached locking the collar on.

Next the soldier approached and handed me my own combat boots.

“Put them on.”

“Sir, yes sir.”

I undid the leather ankle cuffs and pulled on my boots lacing them tightly against my bare skin. I replaced the ankle restraints and the soldier gave me two more padlocks which I used to lock them on. He then took a length of green paracord from his trouser pocket and wrapped my ball sac in cord, just above the balls, pulling them down.

He stepped away and his place was taken by the cop who took a pair of handcuffs from his belt and closed one cuff around my cock and balls. He gave me two more padlocks and told me to lock the wrists restraints on. I looked in the mirror at myself in restraints and a collar and reached to touch my hard cock. The cop slapped my face and I pulled away my hand. Then he led me using the free end of the cuffs to a leather sling. Four men lifted me into the sling and each secured a limb spreading my arms and legs and leaving my arse, cock and balls totally accessible. The cop then swung the free cuff down and it too circled my cock and balls acting like a cock ring.

The diver stepped between my legs. He held a container of lube in one rubber gloved hand and dipped the middle finger of the other hand into the container.

“Tell me where you want me to put this finger.”

“Sir, I would like you to insert your finger into my arse, sir.”

The diver moved forward and very gently worked his lubed finger into my arse.

“Sir, thank you sir.”

As the diver worked my arse, The cop moved in and tightened the ratchet on the cuffs and started to crank my dick. The soldier pulled on the paracord on my balls and began to lick and suck at them. The Master moved to my side and attached a pair of tit clamps. They were joined by a fairly weighty chain which he pulled and twisted.

The four men worked together to send wonderfully conflicting feelings to my cock, balls, arse and tits. My head dropped back and I saw the biker approach. He pulled a tight leather hood over my head. There were only holes for breathing through my nose and I breathed in leather-smelling air as the waves of pleasure swept through my body. From time to time a hand closed off my air supply and I fought and writhed trying to breathe; then it would release and I would suck in more air. All the time the hands working on me never let up. I lay in perfect darkness on my back as the master worked my nipples, the cop played with my dick, the diver rimmed and probed my arse, the soldier pulled and sucked my balls and the biker controlled my breathing and wrapped my head in his hands.

My brain could barely cope with all the inputs and it centred on the growing feeling in my groin as I moved closer and closer to orgasm. I could feel myself moving towards the edge, closer and closer until I knew I could just not stop myself from coming. The biker stopped my breathing, the cuffs clicked tighter and the pull on my balls increased. My nipples received a sharp sustained pull and the finger went deep into my arse. Right on the edge, a vibrator touched the tip of my cock and I knew I would cum at that moment. My nose was released. I tried to breathe in and scream at the same time as my body shuddered into the most intense orgasm I had ever experienced. My balls pumped their pent up load. On and on it went; my fingers and toes were clenched and my back arched as I came over my own belly and chest. Still the hands worked and I lost all sense of reality as I was swept along in an ecstasy of emotions and feelings. If it hadn’t actually happened to me, I would never have believed it was possible to cum for so long and so intensely.

As I climbed down, I felt hands caressing my body and my cock was being very gently coated in lube and massaged. I heard Dave’s voice through the hood.

“You’ve passed your initiation with flying colours and you’ve had your reward. For the rest of the night you will be kept in a state of constant arousal and you will cum again and again. Tonight it is your turn, but at future meetings you will have to take your share of the work and give the rest of us the benefit of your imaginative approach to bondage. We’ve had our eyes on you since you arrived in the unit and we think we’ve chosen well. You are now in our bondage club. You will eventually have to chose an image for yourself but for now – just enjoy.”

The hand on my cock changed and I felt a cool smooth rubber glove grip my shaft.

“Do you want to cum again so soon?” enquired the voice of CSgt Charlie Hughes.

“Sir, yes sir!”

And so I joined the best club imaginable. I knew for certain now that the club within the unit consisted of the Master - Sgt Ian Ingram, Biker - CSgt Dave Norris, Cop - Cpl Chris Pitman, Diver - CSgt Charlie Hughes, and Soldier - Cpl Mike Fischer. Furthermore I knew I would become an active member very quickly. I would enjoy getting my revenge on them for their various tests, particularly Cpl Fischer for the maggots. I didn’t yet know what image I would choose for myself but I knew I could dream up some fantastic bondage for them. I had had years of dreaming; now it was to become a reality.

I returned from my reverie to hear Dave laughing.

“Happy Birthday Boss!”

 

END

 

MORE MATERIAL ABOUT AUTHENTIC (RATHER THAN FANTASISED) INTERROGATION PROCESSES AND TECHNIQUES WOULD BE WELCOMED

E-mail for further details